


You're Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Beating, Blood, Bondage, Dom!Abaddon, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Incest, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Pegging, Rape/Non-con Elements, Strap-Ons, Sub!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon wants Dean - and she knows exactly what she's going to do to get him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo, square filled: Pegging

The chains were cold when Dean regained consciousness. The metal was biting into his wrists – bound above his head – the weight of his body and gravity working against the delicate skin on the insides of his wrists.

 

When Dean realized he couldn’t move he began to struggle, panic rising in his throat when he realized not only were his arms bound, he was elevated so just his toes – bare and sore – were touching the cold, damp ceramic floor.

 

“Hello?” He called into the empty room but only his own voice, echoing off the empty walls, answered him back.

 

“Sam!” He shouted as memories flooded back to him – he’d been out drinking with Sam; they’d just wrapped up a case on a vengeful spirit and were celebrating. Sam had gotten up to use the bathroom before they left and Dean was waiting in the car for him. He’d seen movement from the rearview – something in the back seat – before a sharp pain the back of his skull caused the world to fade to black.

 

Worried for Sam and his own life, Dean began to struggle with the chains in earnest, trying in every way he knew to slip out of them.

 

“I’d give up, Dean – you’re not getting out of those cuffs.”

 

The voice behind Dean had a bone chillingly familiar tone. He turned as much as he could, cussing when the owner of the voice came around. Abaddon. Her hair was a fiery red, even in the low light of the room – it was as if she had the flames straight from Hell lighting her locks. Plump, glossed lips matched the color of her hair, and her black eyes shone like onyx. “Dean Winchester… I’ve been waiting a _long_ time to get you like this.”

 

“Where’s my brother, you bitch?” Dean snarled, still fighting against the chains. A glance up told him the cuffs finally bit through the skin of his wrists – a thin line of blood was tickling his arm on its way down to his elbow.

 

“Your brother? Sam?” Abaddon laughed, standing in front of him and crossing her arms over her chest. “I have no interest in your brother, Dean. Only you.” She stepped forward, tracing one perfectly manicured, red painted nail over his cheekbone.

  
Dean jerked away and struggled against the cuffs again. “I swear, as soon as I get loose I’m gonna rip you into pieces again.” He spat. Abaddon only laughed, wiggling her finger in his face.

 

She walked away then, to a corner of the room that Dean couldn’t see no matter how he twisted and turned –his legs and arms were growing exhausted, making it harder to do much more than stand still and attempt to conserve energy.

 

Abaddon circled Dean, reminding him of a wolf circling their prey. He noticed she’d changed – instead of the smooth leather from head to toe that she’d entered with, she was now wearing a black suit, unbuttoned to reveal the top of her black, lacy bra. The slacks framed her shapely legs and ass – and her hooker red heels peeked out from under the hemmed bottoms, like secrets waiting to be spilled. As much as Dean hated himself in that moment – this woman was gorgeous.

 

“So you’ve got me, what’re you gonna do with me? Torture me? Kill me?” Dean snarked in his Winchester fashion, the Mark of Cain burning hot against his arm by simply being so close to the final Knight of Hell.

 

Abaddon laughed – a disarming sound in the silence of the room. “Kill you? Oh no, Mr. Winchester. I have a much better plan for you, my pet.” Her nail raked across his cheek again, this time drawing a thin line of blood. Dean hissed, jerking his face back.

 

“So what? You think this is torture? I spent forty years in hell, sister. Under Alistair’s knife. This is nothing.”

 

Abaddon’s smile disappeared immediately, her eyes flitting black at the mention of Alistair’s name. “Nothing but a child.” She snapped. “Alistair thought he was a Master Carver, but he was nothing but a low level demon brat with an ego problem. I’m glad you killed him. But you really do need to learn what true torture is.”

 

“Well, let’s get it on then, bitch! You made a mistake, you know.”

 

“Oh did I?” Abaddon asked without much concern; she was back to circling him.

 

“You let Sam stay free. You know he won’t stop looking for me. And when he finds me – he will kill you.”

 

“I’d like to see him try. I’ve heard whispers of him, you know. The failed Boy King – Azazel’s greatest triumph and his biggest failure – the only way that child could kill me… Well, I don’t even think he could then.”

 

“Don’t underestimate my brother. Too many of you black eyed bastards have done that – and you’ve all come to regret it.”

 

Abaddon answered with a laugh, the heels of her shoes clicking as she walked away. Dean heard a door open behind him before slamming shut. Knowing he only had minutes before the torture began, he looked up, examining the chains for any weak spots.

 

Abaddon returned much too soon, but stayed out of view of Dean no matter which way he looked. It made him nervous – something was going on here and he didn’t like it one bit. He felt her hands – small but strong – touch his bleeding wrists. She freed him from the shackles, but the moment he attempted to turn around she shoved him against the far wall with her powers, rendering him immobile.

 

Dean grunted, the wind knocked out of him. “Oh, the ‘throwing me around’ route? Gotta say, for a Knight of Hell, this is a little overdone.”

 

Abaddon increased the pressure on his chest until he was having trouble breathing. “Oh Dean. Always with the snark. It won’t hide your pain from me, you know. I can smell you.”

 

“Oh yeah? Sorry about that – haven’t showered in a few days.” Dean managed to get out before the pressure cracked one of his ribs.

 

“You reek of fear, Dean – and I’m only getting started.”

 

The words struck a chord of true fear deep within Dean – and made the Mark pulse against his flesh.

 

Dean was flipped around, his spine pressed tightly against the cement wall – cold even through his layers of clothes.

 

Abaddon approached him slowly, looking him up and down like he was Christmas dinner. Her hands pressed flat against his chest – Dean could feel raw power coursing through those otherwise dainty fingers – calling to the Mark on his arm.

 

When her fingers traced over the muscles in his chest and began to undo the buttons of his shirt Dean bean to struggle again – cracked ribs be damned.

 

Abaddon only laughed, continuing to strip her captive. “There’s the fear – how nice.” She murmured.

 

Once his shirt was undone, she gave it a sharp yank, tearing it off of Dean without releasing him from the wall.

 

The undershirt came next and Abaddon raked her nails down Dean’s bare chest, drawing blood. His breath hitched when she scratched over his sensitive nipples, and cursed his body for reacting to her touches despite the bile rising in his throat.

 

Dean turned his head to the side, willing his body to stop responding. Only Sam – and a few special girls – knew about his weakness for being a submissive – he knew his body well enough to know it was confusing the physical pain for something pleasurable. He was trained beautifully – though it couldn’t be a worse situation to prove that.

 

Abaddon continued to drag her nails down his belly to his jeans. She removed the belt and denim easily and laughed when doing so revealed his ever growing bulge.

 

“My my, Dean… Enjoying this?”

 

“No!” Dean snarled. Abaddon cupped her hand over his cock through the thin fabric of the boxers.

 

“That’s not what your body is saying.”

 

Dean laughed scornfully and spat, “I will _never_ submit to you, demon bitch.” Abaddon slapped him, her nails leaving four bloody rivets across his cheek.

 

“You will submit. Your body wants to. The Mark wants you to. I only have to break that weak human mind.” She tore off his boxers and walked away. Her power remained, however – so Dean was left pinned to the wall, naked and shivering.

 

Dean was nearly passed out by the time the door opened again. This time Abaddon was carrying a small leather bag. She ignored Dean for the most part at first, except to verify that he did still have a slight erection, and turned to place the bag on the table. She began to dig through it but Dean’s eyes were too fuzzy from exhaustion to really see what she was taking out.

 

She turned on him all too soon, however, and snapped, releasing the power holding him against the wall. Dean collapsed to his hands and knees on the floor, sucking in a much needed breath – though his injured ribs gave a hearty protest.

 

Dean was forced to move before he could really gather himself, however, pushed flat to the floor on his stomach by her power and slid to the center of the room. She freed him and crossed her arms, waiting with a mock patience until he rose onto his knees again. She flipped her hand, applying a pressure that felt like the bindings of cuffs to his ankles. A pressure appeared on his back, dropping him down to his hands, where the same invisible cuffs caught his wrists, pinning him on all fours. Dean struggled weakly but his body was ready to give in by this point. He could sense Abaddon move behind him, and heard a rustle of clothing – what could she possibly be planning?

 

Of all of the cruel scenarios Dean’s brain were creating, nothing could have expected him for what truly happened.

 

Abaddon’s hands were steady and hot when she grabbed his bare ass, spreading him open. Dean gave a grunt of surprise, attempting to wiggle out of her strong grip. She slapped him once, his ass cheek welting and reddening immediately. “I’d behave, or this will be so much more painful.” 

“Let me go.” Dean attempted to snarl, but it came out sounding like a plea.

 

“Now, that would be no fun.” She slapped him again and released his ass.

 

There was a moment of silence and calm before Abaddon was back, one hand spreading his ass open and the other applying ice cold lube – a sharp contrast to the heat he was feeling from the earlier slaps. Dean whimpered – he wasn’t naive – he knew where this had to be headed.

 

“Don’t.” He tried to sound firm, but it came out weak and Abaddon laughed, pressing her finger into him. Her nail, though smooth, still scratched his inner walls, making him hiss.

Dean attempted to withdraw from the situation as her fingers fucked into him – think about anything but what was happening. His mind landed instinctively on Sam, his beautiful baby brother. God, he had to be panicking by now.

 

Abaddon yanked her fingers free, scratching his insides again and ripping him from his thoughts of Sam. His relief was short lived, however, because something much larger was pressing against his already bleeding hole.

  
Dean attempted to shift away from the invading object. He glanced back and the blood drained from his face when he saw Abaddon, nude now, save for an intricate hip harness with a large – larger than he’d ever taken – strap on attached. The dildo was enormous as it was, but the studs covering the entirety of it made it look larger and that much more formidable. “Stop. Jesus, stop, please.” He panted – this wasn’t the time to try and be tough – this couldn’t be happening.

 

Abaddon didn’t listen however. She pressed forward, forcing the much too large dildo past his swollen, aching rim and deep into him in one smooth thrust.

 

Someone was screaming.

 

It took Dean until his throat began to hurt to realize it was him. Abaddon was ruthless as she thrust into him, the ribbed plastic dragging against his insides and hitting his prostate head on.

 

Dean’s body reacted against his will, cock hard and leaking precome onto the floor. He struggled as much as he could in her invisible binds, tears of pain and shame streaking through the dirt on his sweating face.

 

Dean felt like he couldn’t take another second of this. His ass was on fire and Abaddon’s nails were digging bloody rivets into his hips. Every pull out resulted in a painful drag, and shove in made him feel like he was going to vomit. He knew he could die if she tore him badly enough – half of him hoped it would happen.

  
Dean could feel his mouth moving, but the blood pumping so audibly in his ears made it nearly impossible to hear what he was saying. He tried harder – anything to take the focus away from Abaddon’s stiff cock deep in his ass – Sam. He was crying for Sam. The realization made Dean’s body break into a new set of shivers and tears. He hung his head, praying that his brother would be safe – wouldn’t do anything crazy if this Knight did end up killing him. He prayed Sam wouldn’t find him – wouldn’t put himself at risk for this same form of abuse. But he knew it was all lip service. They’d stop at nothing to save one another.

 

Abaddon moaned loudly, drawing Dean out of his silent prayer. She leaned over his back, pressing deceptively gentle kisses over the dip of his spine. One hand dropped from Dean’s hip and wrapped around his cock, heavy between his legs.

 

Dean struggled, trying to get her hand away from him without hurting his ass further; she was pressed as deep as the strap on would allow and every shift he dared rubbed the studs against his prostate.

 

Abaddon laughed, gripping his swollen cock a little tighter. “Oh come on now, Dean – you can’t tell me this isn’t a little fun for you.”

 

“Get off me or kill me, you bitch.” Dean snarled. Abaddon’s nails dug into the sensitive flesh at underside of his cock, making him scream.

  
“I’d behave, pet, or this will hurt so much worse.”

 

“Just kill me, damnit!” Dean hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Why would I do that, when humiliating you is so much more pleasant?” Abaddon replied simply. She picked up a brutal pace, jerking him off at the same rate. Her hand was dry, but it still sent shockwaves of guilty, shameful pleasure through Dean’s stomach.

 

He pleaded silently with whoever might be listening to let him calm down – he didn’t want to come like this, he didn’t want to give this demon bitch the pleasure of knowing her power. But it was useless.

 

Dean sobbed rather than moaned when he came, fresh tears running down his cheeks. He could hear Abaddon’s laughter as she used the cum to lube the way for further stroking and it burned his ears. He felt his body going slack and lowered himself down, resting his head on the cold floor. He cried softly, letting Abaddon do what she wished with him.

 

When Abaddon had gotten her fill of torturing Dean, she pulled out, standing and walking away, leaving him bound the floor. She returned a few minutes later and crouched in front of him. Her nails raked his cheeks again as she grabbed his chin and jerked his head up to look at her.

 

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

 

“Screw you.” Dean snarled, but Abaddon smiled.

 

“Just so we’re clear, Dean. This was a warning. You will always be mine.” She released his head before drawing her hand back and punching him.

 

The world went black.


End file.
